


The State of You and I

by NinjaFairy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Angst, Childhood Trauma, Coming of Age, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drugs, F/F, F/M, Gang Violence, Gangs, Gun Violence, Hermione doesn't let anyone define her, Human Trafficking, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, POC Hermione, Past Child Abuse, Possessive Behavior, Poverty, Racism, Story takes place in America, Substance Abuse, This is a story, Underdog Story, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, because this is probably going to hurt, plot heavy, prepare yourself, this is a learning process, this is me baring my soul for all to see
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-06 04:55:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14634545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NinjaFairy/pseuds/NinjaFairy
Summary: She'd broken the one promise she made to herself: she fell in love with him.[Tomione. Modern Muggle AU. Gang Related fic.]





	1. Outlier

**Author's Note:**

>  
> 
> **  
> **  
> PLEASE READ THE AUTHOR NOTE BEFORE CONTINUING  
>   
> 
> 
> **A/N:** Well, here it is - the Tomione story inspired by the song 'Gang Related' that I freaked out about on Tumblr a few months ago. I've been working on the plot since then and I have to say that...I'm in love with what I've created. All of my stories are very personal to me, but I will be baring the entirety of my soul for this one. This is the closest story to a self-insert I will ever possibly go and I am fully willing to admit that, but it's not for the romantic aspect. It's for everything that Hermione goes through in her life - everything she has to overcome. I...I just can't put it into words in this note, because it hurts too much. If you decide to join me on this rollercoaster ride, I think you'll understand what I mean.
> 
> I must mention that this story is completely original - I've essentially just borrowed names and some personality traits of the characters. So, if you think a character is doing something that they wouldn't typically do, don't be surprised. But I don't think anyone would really be considered OOC. Just please be aware of this before continuing.
> 
>  **Trigger Warning Note:** If you've read my other stories, you know that I am vehemently against trigger warnings. The two things I will never write are rape scenes or pedophilia, but for this story, there will be mentions of these two things. This story is going to be gritty, real, and raw. So, for that reason, I am listing controversial topics that will be taking place in this story that may make you uncomfortable: gang violence, gun violence, racism, human trafficking, and substance abuse.
> 
> Please, for the love of God, proceed at your own risk.
> 
> Alright, I'm done blabbing.
> 
> Enjoy.

 

Chapter One: Outlier

_Poverty is a merciless murderer._

_It makes even the sunniest of days the darkest; it leaves people on the streets; it leaves little bellies empty, and tear ducts drained; it makes good people resort to terrible measures; it leaves people who cannot afford their medical bills to suffer in silence; it comes swiftly and deftly in the night to claim you as its own, and there is absolutely nothing you can do to stop it._

_And it doesn't matter how hard you pray to your God for better days, because those better days will never come to you. You are stuck on a cycle – the vicious cycle of washing and rinsing and repeating until you are beaten and bruised and life brutally spits you back out._

_You are left to deal with the aftermath of that all on your own._

_You cannot escape it._

_You cannot fix it._

_You are merely a victim in the game that is American capitalism; and if you do not know how to play the game correctly, you…will…_ _**lose**_ _._

* * *

The world had to be a better place than this.

It was the night of her twelfth birthday and there was yelling going on down in the street below… _again_.

Hermione pulled the sheet up to her chin and started to hum. Her momma always told her that whenever she was scared, she should sing. She told her that singing would always scare away the bad things – that the bad things would always run away from the good. Her momma always told her that the Devil made the bad things happen and that he hated singing.

The shouting got louder, so Hermione hummed louder.

She pulled the stuffed otter she got as her birthday gift and hugged it tightly against her chest. It was the only thing she'd wanted for her birthday. Her momma asked her if she was sure she wanted a stuffed animal and if she was  _sure_  she wasn't too old for one. Hermione had paused at the question, and thought about why she wanted one to begin with.

Her class had taken a field trip to the zoo the year before. Her school didn't take many field trips, so it was exciting. There were so many animals she'd only ever seen in books: elephants, giraffes, gibbons, African penguins, Bornean orangutans, koalas, and dozens more. What made it even more exciting was the fact that her daddy volunteered to be a chaperone. He'd never done anything like that before, so it was a pretty big deal. It was  _special_. No one  _else's_  daddy was a chaperone. That must have been why some of her classmates kept giving him weird looks. They must have been jealous that  _their_  daddies couldn't come, too.

She found out the real reason why everyone was staring when she went to the restroom during the trip. One of the girls in another class asked Hermione if her chaperone was a substitute teacher.

Hermione stopped washing her hands and frowned. "He's not a substitute teacher. He's my daddy."

The girl scoffed, made a face, and looked Hermione up and down. "He don't  _look_  like your daddy."

"Well, he  _is_."

"I think you're really adopted and he just didn't tell you. You don't even  _match_ ," the girl said.

Hermione felt angry tears form and she began to shake. "I'm not adopted! You don't even know him. We match! We have the same eyes! We have the same smile!" she snapped at the girl, and stomped out of the restroom.

She wiped her tears away before anyone else could see. Her dad smiled at her, and patted her on the shoulder when she returned. She smiled back and gave him a hug. He was  _her_  daddy. That girl didn't know what she was talking about and Hermione wasn't going to let it get to her.

Once the other kids in their group were done using the restroom, they stopped by the otter exhibit. She watched in awe at the way they cut gracefully through the water.

"Do you like them, Hermione?" her dad asked from his crouched position beside her.

She grinned down at him, then looked back at the tank. "I love them. They're so cool."

"What do you know about them?" he asked. This was something that he'd always done – asked her lots of questions. It was their game. It was good for the brain, he'd say – that constant thinking was always good. Her daddy said that thoughts and ideas were like the brain's oxygen.

Hermione smiled, then looked back at the otters. "Their diet consists of fish and invertebrates."

"Right. What else?"

"There aren't any species of otter in Antarctica and Australia," she offered.

"Really?" he asked, mildly surprised. "I didn't know that."

She grinned at him. "I bet you already know that sea otters hold hands while they sleep, so they won't float away from each other."

He grinned back and reached for her hand. "That reminds me of the time when we moved into the that apartment when you were eight and you were scared of your new room. You made me sit next to your bed and hold your hand until you -"

Hermione's face heated under the already intense sun and she hurriedly silenced him. "Dad! Stop it! People might hear you."

He laughed at her embarrassment and turned his attention to one of the other children in their group who'd asked when lunch was.

The same girl that spoke to her in the bathroom walked nearby with her group. Hermione made eye contact with her and she noticed how the girl looked at her and her fathers joined hands. She then whispered to a girl next to her. They both shared a look and laughed.

Hermione looked down at their hands and it was the first time in her entire life where she truly noticed how much darker her skin was compared to his.

The hurtful memory was cut short. The shouting in the streets had turned into gunshots.

Hermione snatched her otter and fell to the floor like she'd been taught. She didn't dare get up, so she made herself comfortable on the carpet; it wouldn't be the first time she had. Her momma wouldn't be home from her shift at the hospital for a few more hours, but it was okay. The cops would arrive soon; they always did.

And that is how Hermione fell asleep that night – on the floor, with blue and red rotating lights flashing against her wall as her nightlight.

* * *

_Six years later…_

It was the summer after Hermione graduated from high school and it was  _hot_. Florida in July was no joke. She had sweat collecting in – well, collecting in places that didn't need to be mentioned out loud.

And that was how they found themselves inside Forever 21 at the mall on Westshore Boulevard. Walking around downtown Tampa had become unbearable in the heat, so Hermione, Lavender, and Parvati sought the refuge that was air conditioning by window shopping.

"What about this one?" Parvati asked, holding a floral print dress up to her chest.

Hermione gave her a so-so gesture with her hand, while Lavender made a face and went back to looking through the rack. Parvati pouted and shoved the dress on the hanger back in the rack. "You two are impossible. That dress was  _cute_."

"If you think it's cute, then you should get it," said Hermione.

Parvati groaned, then pulled one of the sunglasses on a nearby display down and put them on. "Oh, trust me. I would've got it, but my parents would  _kill_  me if they caught me wearing that  _and_  I'm broke."

"We're all broke, Parvati," Lavender added. She pulled out another top, scrunched her nose up at it, then put it back on the rack. "We need to get jobs."

"You two need to get jobs. I've already got one, thank you very much," Hermione added in a bored tone.

Lavender laughed. "Well, excuse us, Ms. All-High-and-Mighty! Working at the Boys and Girls Club hardly counts as a job."

Hermione froze. "How does that not count? I get paid every two weeks, don't I?"

"But you work with a bunch of brats, Mione. I'd rather flip burgers than do what you do," Lavender replied.

"And I'd rather work with a bunch of brats than flip burgers. Everyone has their preferences, Lav."

Lavender shrugged through the silence. Parvati laughed and added, "Hermione's right, because I know I'd rather do  _neither_  of those."

"You probably shouldn't take on a job, anyway. You start school next month, don't you?" Hermione asked.

Parvati smiled sadly and nodded. "Yeah. I got my acceptance letter last week. Florida State University - College of Medicine…here I come."

"You're still not excited about going yet?" Lavender asked.

Parvati shrugged one shoulder halfheartedly.

"You're honestly so lucky, Parvati. You got a great scholarship  _and_  your parents make good enough money to send you, regardless. You'll get to experience college life. Isn't that what you've been wanting?" Hermione asked, nudging Parvati's shoulder with her own.

"It's not that. It's just…you guys know that being a pharmacist wasn't my first choice. It's just what my parents do and they kind of…forced it on me."

Lavender pulled the sunglasses off Parvati's nose and put them on her own face. She grinned and tapped Parvati's nose. "Have you forgotten? This is America, Parvati. Nobody can make you do anything that you don't want to do."

Parvati scoffed and folded her arms. "Easier said than done, Lav. We may live in America, but my family is from India. I  _have_  to listen to my parents. Our culture is different from yours."

"Yeah, more  _boring_ , you mean," Lavender giggled at her own joke.

Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head. "It's not even about cultural differences. You can't do whatever you want, Lav – there are still laws."

"You two are no fun, I swear to God," the blonde girl muttered as she took Snapchat selfies on her cell phone. "You know what? These sunglasses are kinda cute. I think I'm gonna keep 'em."

Hermione straightened in alarm.

"Lav, don't you  _dare -_ "

Lavender winked and headed toward the exit nearby with the sunglasses still perched on her nose. She took one step past the anti-theft system and the alarm went off.

"Hey!" the middle-aged manager yelled from her position behind the register. She was in the middle of ringing up a customer.

"Run!" Lavender yelled and bolted past a kiosk selling fidget spinners.

"Not again," Parvati groaned and ran after their kleptomaniac friend.

Hermione panicked, unsure of whether she should run, or if she should just feign ignorance and continue to window shop. The manager made eye contact with her and the recognition Hermione spotted in her eyes told her that the older woman remembered seeing her with Lavender. She was screwed.

Without wasting another second, Hermione bolted in the direction she saw her friends go. She ran for a few seconds and quickly realized she had no idea where they went.

_Damn it, Lavender!_

"Hey! You!" she heard a man's voice yell from behind her.

Hermione slowed down enough to look over her shoulder and she rolled her eyes.

_Great. I'm being chased by an overweight rent-a-cop._

She picked up her pace again, feeling thankful that she wore sneakers instead of flip flops.

A hand shot out to grasp her arm and hauled her into JCPenney. Hermione was about to bite down on the hand clamped over her mouth when she recognized the perfume. She tore the hand from her face and whirled on them.

"I swear to God, I'm going to  _kill you_ , Lavender," she hissed. "Wait – where's Parvati?"

"Right here!" Parvati chimed from behind her.

Hermione sighed in relief. "Good. Now, let's beat it before klepto over here gets sticky fingers again or that mall cop finds us."

"You don't have to tell me twice," mumbled Parvati.

"Admit it, guys: life would be  _boring_  without me," Lavender said with a laugh, perched the sunglasses on top of her head, and latched an arm around Hermione and Parvati's shoulders good-naturedly as they walked out of the mall.

Hermione rolled her eyes and fought back a smile. "I think our definition of boredom differs from yours, but you're right – life would be boring without you, Lavender."

If the sun had gone out in that very moment, Lavender's smile would have been enough to light their way.

* * *

Later that evening, Hermione caught one of the evening city buses that headed home. The bus slowed down at a stop and Hermione glanced up from her cell phone when an older Hispanic woman boarded. She continued scrolling through her newsfeed to kill time until she got to her stop. She paused her scrolling when she noticed a news article about a homicide that happened in Tampa the night before.

_Terry Boot, aged 22, was found dead Monday night at North 15th Street and East 140th Avenue in Tampa from an apparent homicide, according to the Hillsborough Sheriff's Office._

_Before 10 p.m. on Monday, an anonymous person called 911, reporting that Boot had been shot by an unknown assailant. When deputies arrived, they found Boot dead on the sidewalk._

_Detectives originally called the death suspicious, but later reclassified it as a homicide and do not believe it was a random act. Detectives also believe that Boot's death may be related to the recent increase in gang activity in the greater Tampa Bay area, as he was thought to be an associate of the local Death Eaters gang._

_Detectives are continuing to investigate the circumstances surrounding Boot's death and following up on leads._

_If you have any information, please contact the Hillsborough Sheriff's Office._

Hermione sighed, closed her phone, and let her head fall against her headrest. Sure, Tampa wasn't the safest city in the world, but things were going downhill rapidly in recent years. It wasn't just the gang violence, either. It was the higher poverty levels, the drugs, the human trafficking – Tampa had turned into a hub of depravity; it disgusted her.

She'd always wanted to do something to help change it, but what could one person do? She wasn't anyone important and she didn't have the power to make a change that large, but that wasn't going to stop her. Hermione had decided that if she was going to make a difference in this world, she would start small – she would start locally.

That's why she got a job at the Boys and Girls Club, so she could be a positive influence for the children in her neighborhood. And her neighborhood was…well, there was no sugar-coating it – she lived in the ghetto. They couldn't afford to live anywhere nicer and they needed to be near the bus route, since they didn't have a car.

Her momma had a good job working at Tampa General as a patient area cleaner and she loved it. The only problem with her job was that it was back-breaking work and she wasn't getting any younger. She'd been working there for years and it was starting to take a toll, even though her mom would never admit that she was getting too old for that kind of work.

A small smile formed on Hermione's face when she thought about how in just a few years, she'd be able to tell her momma that she could quit her job. She'd get a great job that paid well and they'd move out of their roach-infested apartment and into someplace nicer on the outskirts of the city. Hermione would take care of her momma just how she'd always taken care of her.

Hermione's smile fell.  _Well, as long as I get my acceptance letter._

Normally, she wouldn't have felt nervous, but it was July and she still hadn't received anything in the mail. She  _did_  apply later than she should have, because she felt like going to college was pointless – they couldn't afford for her to go, so what was the point in trying?

Then her outlook changed when she found out she qualified for financial aid and grants. Hermione scrounged up what cash she'd set aside and used it for the application fees to apply to USF – The University of South Florida. It was her only option, since it was on the bus route and technically within walking distance  _and_  it was right next to the hospital.

It was perfect, because it was close to her momma's work, close to her apartment, close to her friends, and they had the program of study she wanted to get a degree in – Substance Abuse Counseling. It would take a few years and it would be a lot of hard work – the odds were stacked so high against her already, but she knew she could do it and she knew it would be worth it, in the end.

Most people would expect a girl that looked like her to be waiting for an appointment at the WIC office, not to be a substance abuse counselor. She looked down at her frayed jean shorts and faded blue t-shirt and thought that she had plenty of time to pull a professional look together when she reached that point in her life.

Hermione's phone vibrated. There was a text from her mom.

_hey, baby. u home yet?_

_not yet. i'm on the bus now_

_text me when u get in. love u_

_k. love you, too_

Hermione sighed and opened Facebook again, only to have the news article from before glare back at her. She knew it was the reason why her mom had been checking in on her more frequently lately – all these murders. She tried telling her mom that all the victims were tied to one of the gangs in the city, so she had nothing to worry about – Hermione wasn't the type of girl to be stupid enough to fall in with those kinds of people.

An atypical rage jabbed her chest when she thought about how  _those_  people destroyed lives –  _good_  lives – lives much better than their own. Her daddy's face and his wonderful, wonderful smile came to her mind and she clenched her teeth.

If she'd been older than twelve back then, she would have noticed the circles underneath his eyes sooner. If she'd been older than twelve back then, she would have realized what her parents were always fighting over at night. If she'd been older than twelve back then, she wouldn't have blamed her mom for kicking him out.

It all started when he got into an accident at work. He fell off a ladder and hurt his back. Worker's Comp paid for everything – including the pain medication.

The pain pills turned into more pain pills, but with alcohol. Then the pain pills and alcohol turned into late-night arguments. Then the late-night arguments turned into lines of cocaine. Then the lines of cocaine turned into a divorce. Then the divorce turned into heroin.

And, finally, the heroin killed him.

He died, alone, underneath a bridge overpass.

Hermione wiped away the tears that had just begun to spill down her cheeks. She took a steadying breath and put on her best stoic face. There was no use crying over it. Crying wouldn't make anything better. Crying wouldn't bring him back.

All she could do was find a way to help the people who were still alive. She had to find a way - no matter what the cost. She knew her circumstances weren't great, but it wasn't  _impossible_.

Hermione closed her phone. She refused to be another statistic stuck in the vicious cycle known as poverty.

* * *

On the Friday of that same week, a letter from USF arrived.

"I can't open it. You open it," Hermione said, pushing the envelope back across the table to her mother.

Even though she was nearing her mid-forties, she didn't look a day over 35. Hermione got her build from her momma: petite, slender, narrow hips, small breasts, high cheekbones, and wild caramel curls. The biggest difference between them was their skin tone, their eyes, and their smiles: Hermione was lighter and she had her daddy's smile and eyes.

Her heart hurt at the thought of her father coming to her mind and she quickly pushed him to the back to forget the pain.

"Hermione, you gotta open it, baby."

She kept anxiously pulling at one of her curls, and shook her head. "I'm too nervous. What if I didn't get in? I didn't apply to any other schools."

"Hah!" her mom rolled her eyes. "With your grades? They'd have to be  _stupid_  to not let you in."

"It's just that I applied so late in the year. Besides, there are plenty of other kids who have my grades, momma."

"Sure, but will they have the same fighting spirit as you do? Will they have the same brave heart as you do? Will they want this as  _badly_  as you do?"

Hermione sat quietly, mulling over her words.

Her mom slowly pushed the letter back across the table, until it was directly in front of her and said, "Don't let a silly little letter scare you. This moment doesn't define you."

Hermione's eyes snapped to her mother's. She smiled. "You're right. I'm being stupid. The worst thing they'll say is 'no', right?"

Her mom gave her look as if to say, 'Just open the damn letter, Hermione.'

"Alright, alright. I'm opening it, I'm opening it," she said and took a deep breath. She tore the envelope open, pulled the letter out, and read.

_Dear Hermione,_

_On behalf of President Judy Genshaft, the students, faculty and staff of the University of South Florida, I am pleased to offer you admission to USF's Class of 2021, beginning Fall 2017. Based on your academic record –_

She stared at the letter in shock.

"I..I got in," she said quietly, then a grin formed on her face when she looked at her mom. "I got it!"

Her momma had a proud smile on her face. "I knew you would, baby."

"I've gotta call Lavender and Parvati! They're gonna lose their minds!" Hermione jumped up from her seat and nearly fell over in her excitement. She ran down the hallway to her room, but stopped halfway. She ran back into the kitchen, gave her mom a hug, and grinned. "I got it!"

"I'm so proud of you, Hermione."

"Thanks, momma. I seriously can't believe it. I'm gonna go call them now!"

Hermione ran back to her room and her momma hid a sad smile behind the rim of her coffee cup.

* * *

To celebrate Hermione's acceptance letter, Lavender proposed having one last sleep-over before school started, to celebrate. Parvati wasn't allowed to step foot in Hermione's neighborhood and Parvati wanted to escape her family for a little while, so they voted to stay at Lavender's house for the night.

"I wish that you applied to FSU," Parvati whined. "Then I would actually know somebody. We could have been dorm mates."

"FSU is too far away and it's more expensive. Just the tuition alone would have eaten up all my grant money and I'd still have to find a way to pay for housing and my books," Hermione explained.

Parvati nestled herself further into the bean bag chair and pouted. "Doesn't mean I can't wish it, okay? It sucks. I don't wanna go."

Hermione absently scrolled through her phone and sighed. She wasn't even reading any of it, so she closed it. "You know my mom couldn't afford to help me, Parvati. My choices were limited. Oh, don't look at me like that. I think you'll end up liking it. It'll just take a little time getting used to it."

Parvati continued sulking.

Hermione grinned and tossed a pillow at her. It hit Parvati square in the face and she glared indignantly. "What was  _that_  for?"

"For being so negative about a good situation. You're not going to be  _that_  far away. We'll be able to visit each other during Winter and Spring breaks. We have cell phones and Facetime."

"Yeah, yeah. I guess you're right," she muttered, then frowned. "Where the Hell is Lavender? Is she still in the bathroom?"

As if on cue, Lavender walked out of the small bathroom that was connected to her bedroom. She'd told them she was changing into her pajamas, but she was  _not_  wearing her pajamas. She was wearing white jean shorts with a black lacey top and she'd braided her hair. She was putting in a pair of silver earrings when she froze.

"Why aren't you two ready yet?" she asked.

Hermione and Parvati looked at each other in confusion, then looked back at their friend.

"Were we supposed to get ready for something?" Hermione enunciated each word of her question slowly.

Lavender scoffed. "Oh, come  _on_. You didn't think we were just gonna chill at my place all night, did ya? We're going to a party."

"I didn't bring anything to wear, Lav! Damn it, you need to  _tell_  us these things!" Parvati snapped.

Lavender shrugged and crossed the room to rummage through one of her drawers. "Just pick something out of my closet. We're around the same size."

Parvati got up, complained about their difference in cup size, and searched for an outfit. Hermione frowned, feeling annoyed with her friend for the umpteenth time that week. Lavender noticed, but misinterpreted her mood.

"You're smaller than me, but I'm sure you can find something in my closet, too."

Hermione looked down at her denim shorts, white tank top, and second-hand Converse. She crossed her arms over her chest defiantly. "I don't give a shit about my wardrobe, Lav. You know I hate going out to these stupid house parties. Plus, it's not  _safe_. You can't just trust some guy like that. He could be a murderer."

Lavender rolled her eyes. "Ugh, you sound just like my mom. Besides, he's not a  _murderer_. You should have  _seen_  this guy, Hermione. Oh…my… _God_. He was like a darker version of Nick Jonas and he was wearing an Armani watch, Hermione.  _Armani_. Murderers don't wear Armani."

Hermione couldn't find the right words to reply to her friend's terrible logic. Lavender smiled when she found the lip gloss she'd been searching for. She applied it and popped her lips. "Besides, the three of us will be together. Parvati always has her pepper spray. You know how to throw a mean right hook and I -"

"Would probably sit in the corner and cry until it's all over," Hermione deadpanned.

Lavender smiled sarcastically. "Exactly! Now that we've got that all sorted out,  _go find something to wear_."

Hermione groaned and walked over to the closet. Parvati was already getting changed in the bathroom. Hermione angrily slid the hangers to the side. She really didn't feel like getting all dressed up, considering she didn't even want to go out in the first place. In a final act of defiance, Hermione yanked an old black and white flannel shirt that she found in the back of the closet and put it on.

"Oh, my God, Hermione. You can't wear  _that_."

"I can and I will."

"It's gonna be like ninety degrees outside! You're gonna sweat your ass off," Lavender replied.

Hermione started parting her wild hair. "Is the party going to be outside?"

"Well,  _no_ , but -"

"Then I don't need to worry about sweating my ass off." Hermione finished putting her hair into two messy buns when Parvati came out of the bathroom. She was wearing black leggings and a floral shirt like the one she saw earlier that week.

Lavender took one look at the leggings and groaned. "Fine. Both of you can have fun sweating your asses off then."

Parvati looked down at her leggings, then from Hermione to Lavender. She shrugged. "What? Does it look bad?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, no. You look good."

Parvati smiled. "Good. You guys ready? Let's do this!"

"There we go! That's the spirit!" Lavender cheered, then pulled out her cell phone. "Come on – selfie time!"

Hermione tolerated as many filtered Snapchat selfies as she could before she broke away from her friends and headed for the door. Lavender pouted.

"This is our last night out together before Parvati is shipped off to Tallahassee and you're being a grouch, Mione."

Hermione winced. Leave it to Lavender to be right about something for once. She sighed and turned back around. "Fine, fine. I'm sorry. It just makes me nervous going out at night with all the shootings going on lately. What if something bad happens?"

Lavender walked up to her and adjusted Hermione's buns. "Nothing bad is going to happen where we're going. Did I mention that the party is in Tampa Palms?"

Hermione looked doubtful. "Which  _part_  of Tampa Palms?"

The blonde girl gave a sly smile. "Let's just say that the guy I met gave me his personal gate code."

"Shut up," gasped Parvati. "He's loaded?"

"I told you guys. He was wearing  _Armani_."

Hermione looked at the time on her phone. "Yeah, well we'll never see what he's wearing if we don't leave soon. We still gotta catch the bus."

Parvati scoffed. "Oh, we're not taking the bus."

"Huh?" Hermione asked.

Parvati fished into her purse and a set of car keys were dangling from her fingers. She grinned. "My parents bought it as a late graduation gift. They didn't want me left without transportation while being so far away from them."

"That's awesome, Parvati! Congratulations!" She smiled, but couldn't help the small pang of jealousy that ran through her. She was happy for her friend – she really was, but it sucked that she'd never grown up with the same privileges as them. If only her father hadn't been a complete and total piece of –

"Thanks!" Parvati beamed. "It's nothing fancy, but I love it. Come on. Let's go."

* * *

"Are you sure you know where this place is, Lav?" Parvati asked for the third time as she made another turn.

" _Yes_ , okay? Jesus, have a little faith in me. Just follow the GPS."

"Why does this feel like the opening scene of a slasher movie?" Hermione asked casually from the backseat.

Parvati snorted. Lavender threw Hermione a glare, then looked at the GPS. "Ooo! Stop! We're here! Pull in that driveway there."

Parvati pulled the car up to the access gate and Lavender reached across her to enter the code on the keypad. A long beep sounded and the large gates in front of them slowly opened. As they neared the enormous, three-story house, Hermione could only think of how she  _really_  regretted tagging along.

Parvati parked the car next to the others in the large driveway and they got out. Hermione could  _feel_  the bass blasting from the ridiculously large home. All she could think of is why anyone would need  _that_  much space.

Lavender rushed ahead of them to ring the doorbell and Parvati leaned over toward Hermione to ask in a whisper, "What has she gotten us into this time? Seriously."

"I have no idea. Let's just stay together and make sure she doesn't get herself into trouble," Hermione whispered back.

Parvati nodded, then the front door opened and music assaulted Hermione's ears. Lavender's description of the mystery man wasn't too far off – he  _did_  kind of look like a darker version of Nick Jonas, only he was more business casual instead of California casual.

"Ahh, Ms. Brown! And here I was, thinking you weren't going to make it," he smiled charmingly and kissed the back of her hand. Lavender giggled and it took everything in Hermione to not roll her eyes. His eyes met Hermione's and his smile widened. "And who are your lovely friends?"

"This is Hermione and this is Parvati. They're both leaving me behind to start college next month," Lavender gave her best sad pout.

"Ahh, fellow students! I'm working on my Bachelor's in Business Management at USF," the mystery man said.

Hermione's mood did a one-eighty.

"That's where I'm going in the Fall – to USF!" she said excitedly.

His smile widened at her excitement. "Oh, yeah? What are you studying?"

"Substance Abuse Counseling."

His smile faltered. "O-oh? That's great."

Her eyes narrowed and she immediately realized the reason of his change in behavior.  _Great. Of course. Rich white boy throwing a party. There's drugs._

God, this was stupid. Hermione knew this was a terrible idea. She was about to tell Lavender this, when her friend didn't like that the attention was on Hermione, so she pulled it back to herself.

"You promised you were going to show me around, Regulus," Lavender reminded him sweetly.

So, darker Nick Jonas had a name – Regulus. What kind of name was Regulus?

Regulus brought his attention back to Lavender, offered her his arm, and smiled. "That's right. How about I give you ladies the grand tour?"

"That sounds  _awesome_ ," Lavender said, then walked inside with Regulus without hesitation. Hermione and Parvati followed closely behind.

To say that the house was large would be an understatement. It was literally the nicest home Hermione had ever set foot in. It wasn't completely packed with people, but it was awfully crowded for how few cars she saw out in the driveway. Everyone was dressed so… _nice_ , and here she was, wearing second-hand clothes. If it weren't for the fact that it looked like most everyone was either drunk or high, she might have felt insecure about her personal appearance. She just kept telling herself that no one was going to care, and even if they did, they weren't going to remember her or ever see her again. Hermione wasn't the type of person to socialize with… _this_  crowd. They were just so… _different._

Regulus chatted away as he took them to room after useless room. Hermione grew bored and irritated. His wine closet was bigger than her entire bedroom. It was wasteful, in her opinion.

 _At least Lavender and Parvati seem to be enjoying themselves_ , she thought.

They'd arrived in the main living space where much of the party was taking place. There was an open bar that Lavender dragged Regulus and Parvati to after she declined to tag along. Hermione lingered on the outskirts of the room, and checked her messages on her phone to pass the time.

She figured that no one would bother her, but how very wrong she was to assume so.

"I can tell you're not much one for forced social situations, yeah?" came a man's voice laced with a posh British accent.

Hermione's neck nearly snapped when she looked to see who spoke to her. To her left, she saw a man dressed in more casual attire, like her – he was wearing some obscure band tank top, deliberately ripped jeans, and leather boots. He was rather young, too – probably only a few years older than her. He had long, dirty blonde hair that was just beginning to curl at the nape of his neck, baby blue eyes, and a mischievous smile that just  _screamed_  trouble. Whoever he was, his gaze was fixed amusedly on Regulus and her friends. He was  _kind of_  cute, in an unconventional sort of way, and that accent just made him even more attractive, but it was an observation she chose to ignore.

Hermione gave him a deliberate once-over, then went back to looking at her phone. "I wonder what gave you that impression."

He chuckled, and took a sip of his expensive-looking alcohol. "You're just a little ball of sunshine, aren't you?"

She scoffed, then muttered sarcastically, "More like an anti-social butterfly."

He smiled and didn't say anything for a while; they both quietly observed the other people going about their drunken activities in the room from their little corner. Hermione swore she saw a huddled group of people taking turns snorting lines of coke from a crystal table on the other side of the darkened room and averted her gaze back to him when he spoke.

"So, what brought you here? You don't seem the type to partake in extracurricular activities such as this," he observed out loud.

Hermione internally groaned, aware of the fact that he wasn't going to be leaving her alone anytime soon. She closed her phone and slid it into her back pocket. She pointed her chin toward the open bar. "My friends dragged me along."

"Ah, I see. That explains why you aren't…" he paused, then looked her up and down in amusement before continuing, "…dressed for the occasion."

She felt her face heat up in embarrassment. She tucked her hands in the sleeves of Lavender's flannel shirt and crossed her arms defensively. And here she was, assuming everyone would be too drunk to notice her outfit. "It was sprung on me at the last minute, alright? Besides, you aren't exactly 'dressed for the occasion', either."

He chuckled darkly. "No need to get so defensive, love. It was merely an observation," he said, then leaned in closer to say with a sly smile, "I prefer your outfit over theirs, if that makes you feel any better."

Hermione's cheeks flared up again and she felt her heart race. She decided to change the topic of the conversation. "Well, now we both know why I'm here. Why are you here? You're not exactly being social, either, if you're hangin' out with me in a dark corner."

His demeanor shifted marginally, but it was enough for Hermione to take notice. A mischievous smile slowly slid across his face as he lifted his drink to his lips once more. He took a sip and replied, "I'm here on business."

"Business?" she asked skeptically as she did her best to keep a watchful eye on her friends – particularly Lavender. A man had just come over to whisper something in Regulus' ear and Regulus appeared to have excused himself from her friends politely. She watched him briskly follow his friend out of the room and she vaguely wondered if they'd run out of their pricey Hennessy. She brought her attention back to the blonde man beside her. "What kind of business could you possibly do at a party?"

He let out a genuine laugh then, and she couldn't help but feel like he was laughing at her expense. "You can do business anywhere, love," he replied, then tapped his nose and winked. "As long as you keep your nose clean long enough."

Hermione's eyes widened and her heart dropped to her gut.

He threw his head back to finish his drink, and set the cup down on a nearby table. "Well, time for me to get back to work. I hope you enjoy the rest of your night…" he paused. "I just realized that I don't even know your name."

"Hermione," she answered automatically, still in shock at his earlier reference.

"Hermione," he repeated slowly. "Shakespeare. Symbolic. I love it."

Without any warning, he took her hand in his. She was still too shocked by his charming nature to react to the abrupt move, and watched him in a daze as he placed a soft kiss to the back of her hand. He looked back up at her and winked.

"It was lovely meeting you, Hermione. Maybe we'll see each other again soon."

"Yeah," she replied stupidly. He gave her one last parting smile and left the room.

Hermione shook herself out of her daze and berated herself, "Stupid, stupid,  _stupid_."

What in the Hell just happened with that guy? She assumed that it must have been the accent, because he wasn't even that  _cute_.

Hermione stared at the doorway he'd walked out of and finally admitted to herself that  _okay_ ,  _fine_ , he was pretty hot, in his own sort of way, she  _guessed_ , but he was obviously some sort of criminal. It was probably a good thing she didn't ask for his name; the less she knew about him, the better. She didn't want to get mixed up in whatever  _business_  he was here on.

 _Actually_ , Hermione thought, as she witnessed a woman not much older than herself clean up another line with her face,  _I most definitely don't wanna get involved in any business going on here._

Dread had begun to seep into her nerves as she made her way over to her friends. It looked like Lavender had had at least a couple of drinks and Parvati had finally been convinced to start a drink of her own. Hermione calmly took the glasses out of their hands and raised her voice over the music, "We're leaving.  _Now_."

Lavender's face scrunched up and she squinted at her. "What? But we just got here!"

"Don't argue with me, Lavender. We really need to go," Hermione commanded.

"Did something happen, Hermione?" Parvati asked, looking concerned.

Hermione was about to say:  _No, but I've got a bad feeling_ , but she never got the chance. She heard a faint pop that didn't match the beat of the music and her blood ran cold. She held her breath and listened hard. Lavender's complaining turned into white noise.

There was another pop and she grabbed her friend's wrists. Parvati looked at her in alarm. "Hermione?"

Someone lowered the volume on the sound system. "Hey! Does anyone hear that?"

Another pop echoed through the house. And another. And another.

It was chaos after that. She didn't know how it happened, but Hermione lost her grip on Lavender and Parvati's wrists. They got separated in the swarm of screaming, drunk, frantic people trying to get out of the house.

"Hermione!" She heard Parvati yell, and managed to catch a quick glance of her while she was being pushed toward the back door.

"Get Lavender and  _get out of here_!" Hermione yelled back.

"What about you? We can't just leave you!" she screamed back, crying.

"Just go! Your parents will kill you if they find out you were here! I'll be fine!"

Another gunshot sounded and Hermione couldn't fight the crowd anymore. It was pure chaos. She rushed toward the backdoor with the throng of people and felt the sticky humidity hit her skin as soon as she stepped outside. People were darting around the pool and tripping over patio furniture left and right.

Hermione tried to keep her wits about her to figure out the best route to take. Most of the people were running toward the front of the house to get to their cars, but she remembered being taught in high school that if there was an active shooter, that would be the first place they would go to shoot down more victims.

She spotted a decorative cluster of Elephant ear plants at the far corner of the pool, and didn't think twice about her choice as she ran across the damp grass to hide behind the large leaves. Hermione dove on her stomach and shook, silently praying that Lavender and Parvati got out safely. She hadn't noticed anymore gunshots being fired after she left the house. Hermione tried remaining as optimistic as she could about her current situation, but it didn't stop the adrenaline coursing through her from making her body quake.

Hermione had a perfect vantage point of the house from her hiding spot and it looked as if all the party-goers – well, whichever ones  _hadn't_  been shot – had made their escape. She didn't see anyone else leave the house and all she could hear were cars peeling out of the driveway around front. After a minute or two, it was silent, aside from the gurgling of the pool filter and the occasional tree frog chirping.

She shakily reached for her phone in her back pocket and pulled it in front of her to dial 911, but paused when she saw movement in one of the second-floor windows. Hermione quickly shut her phone off to hide the screen light and slid it back in her pocket. She was frozen in fear. All she could hear was her pulse beat, beat, beating away in her ears as she dared to look at the window.

It was Regulus, she could tell, but his back was to the window. Why was he still inside? He had to know that there was an active shooter in his own house!

Hermione crouched on her knees under the large plant and went to get up and yell for him to get out of the house, but right as she sat on her knees, right as she filled her lungs with breath, glass shattered everywhere and she watched in slow-motion as Regulus hurtled toward the pool.

The splash from his fall sprayed her face and she hurriedly wiped the chlorine water from her eyes, so she could see again. She saw that the water had settled and she covered her mouth in shock; blood was seeping from his body in graceful ribbons across the surface of the pool. He was dead – there was no way that he wasn't; not with that much blood. Her eyes instinctively flew to the window he fell from and her mouth fell open.

There, standing in the window with a twisted grin and a hand running through his now-disheveled hair, was the guy she'd been talking with not even ten minutes ago.

Hermione gasped and fell on her ass when she spotted the gun he wielded carelessly in his other hand. He must have heard her, because he snapped the gun directly at her. Hermione closed her eyes.

This was it.

She was going to die.

She'd become another statistic.

 _No_.

Her eyes snapped back open and she stared directly into his eyes. She wasn't sure if he could see her from her hiding spot, but it looked as if he was staring right back at her. He tilted his head to the side and the corner of his mouth lifted into the same mischievous smile he wore while they talked earlier. That's when she knew – he could see her perfectly.

Hermione inhaled sharply when he leisurely lowered his gun from her. They stared silently at each other for what felt like minutes, but his attention snapped away from her when they heard sirens in the distance.

She could see the blue and red lights flashing against the leaves of the palm trees down the road. When she looked back to the window, he was gone.

 _Run_ , she told herself, still frozen in fear.  _Run, you idiot_.

As Hermione darted through the trees and tripped over roots and vines on the damp earth, the rational part of her told her to  _turn back around, you stupid girl_  and  _tell the cops what you saw_. But the intuitive part of her told her it was a bad idea to stay, and since she was still running on her fight or flight instincts, she ran.

She ran and she ran and she ran until her lungs were filled with fire and her legs felt like Jell-O.

After what felt like hours of hapless running through tree lines, cutting across yards, and crossing quiet suburban streets, Hermione finally made it out to the main road where she knew the evening buses ran; all she had to do was find a stop along the sidewalk somewhere. But first, she wanted to check and see if Parvati and Lavender made it out, so she checked her phone…only to find that the screen was cracked.

"Fuck!" she swore when it wouldn't turn on. She must have broken it when she fell on her ass. Hermione sighed, and did her best to run through a quick list of the positives.

_I'm alive. And…and…_

And she couldn't think of anything else. Alright, so it was a short list, but it was still a list. Her life was more important than her cell phone; she could always buy another one…somehow. Hermione shook her head. She'd worry about that later.

First, she needed to get back to Lavender's house and pray that her friends got back safely. Then, she was going to light into Lavender for being such an  _idiot_. Hermione loved her friend, but she was so irresponsible sometimes – so damn  _reckless_.

Hermione guessed it was also her fault, too. She should have put her foot down more firmly from the beginning, but all it took was a well-timed, dimpled smile and a guilt trip to make her go along with Lavender's plan.

After a bit of walking, she found a bus stop and plopped down on the bench to wait. As she waited, she noticed her knees were stained with soil. She absently rubbed the sleeves of the shirt against her skin as she thought about who that man was and why, after realizing it was her in the bushes, he had decided to let her live.

* * *

 

 **A/N:**  Special thanks to everyone who has supported me with this story so far: Radiant Innocence, Uchiha, LittleMulattoKitten, Pans, my Discord Whores, and all my friends and readers. I love you guys.

* * *

 


	2. Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for all the feedback! I don't really have much to say, but if you have any questions, send me an ask on tumblr! That's the best way to get a hold of me. Thanks and enjoy.

 

Chapter Two: Reality

* * *

_The definition of desperation in the Merriam-Webster dictionary goes something like this: a loss of hope and surrender; a state of hopelessness leading to rashness._

_When you think of someone who is desperate, you might think of it in a romantic sense; you might think of that one friend you have who is always looking for love, that one friend who always swipes right, that one friend who fears being alone._

_And who knows? Maybe you, yourself, might be that one friend, but that isn't the point I'm trying to make here._

_Now, you might also think to yourself: 'God, I would never become that desperate.' You might think that you are immune to this state of being, because you have those superficial human emotions like pride and modesty and self-respect._

_If you have ever thought of yourself as being above desperation, I would have to label you as being a fool. You have never experienced desperation, because you have never been placed in a situation that would call for it._

_Let's place you in a situation right now, shall we? Let's say that you are a single parent to a young child – the other parent isn't in the picture. Maybe they're a deadbeat, maybe they've gone ghost, maybe they're dead – the reason doesn't matter in this situation, because you are the only person in this world who your child can depend on._

_In this situation, you've just lost your job – budget cuts, staffing lay-offs…like I mentioned before, the reason doesn't matter. You try to remain positive, because you know there are other jobs out there. You hold that Republican mentality that a person is responsible for their own misfortune and you will never be the kind of person who asks for hand-outs, because, damn it, you're better than that. You will find something else. No worries._

_But after a month or two of being passed over for jobs, because of your GED diploma and your limited availability as a single parent, you begin to worry. That late rent notice wedged in your door, that blue envelope that contains your electricity shut-off date, that missed call from debt collectors all weighs heavily on your shoulders and you tell yourself that you are strong and you can handle this and it'll get better soon. This is when the desperation starts to kick in, but you don't even realize it yet._

_You continue to lie to yourself using that pesky little thing called 'pride'. You're not a statistic. You're a good person. You're better than this. You are_ _**not** _ _desperate._

_The defining moment you realize how desperate you really are is the very first night you have to put your child to bed hungry. The guilt and sense of hopelessness about your situation eats away at your soul, until it leaves you with only the destitution of your bare bones for the entire world to witness._

_You have become something you swore you'd never be. You can no longer hide it and you can no longer deny it;_ _**you…are…desperate** _ _._

_This is the reality of your situation._

_Now, tell me this: what would you do?_

* * *

"A shooting that occurred in Tampa Palms at a party last night has left four people dead and several injured. The shooting took place at one of the homes owned by Orion Black, one of the top lawyers in the Tampa Bay area, in which his youngest son, Regulus Black II, was one of the victims.

According to family and friends, Mr. Black was throwing a late birthday party for himself after spending a short time abroad.

Detectives say they believe the crime was personal, and the suspect is still at large.

If you have any information, please contact the Hillsborough Po -"

Hermione's mother walked into the room and turned the television off.

"It's Sunday, baby. Why aren't you ready for church yet?" she asked.

Hermione blinked at the TV, then turned her head to her momma. "I'm not feelin' too good. Do you mind if I just stay home today?"

Her mother's face turned into one of concern. She sat on the couch next to her, and pressed the back of her hand to Hermione's forehead. "You don't feel warm. Did you eat something bad at Lavender's last night?"

"Maybe. It's my stomach. It's a mess," Hermione admitted. She knew it was just her anxiety that had her stomach in knots and that she was technically well enough to go to church, but she didn't have the mental energy to deal with it today.

"What kind of mess? Pepto-Bismol 'mess', or Imodium 'mess'?"

Hermione puffed air through her nose in a quiet laugh. "Pepto-Bismol 'mess', I think."

She patted Hermione's thigh before getting up. "I'll go get it for you."

Hermione smiled. "Thanks, momma."

Her smile dropped away and she stared at the black screen of the television as the last words of the reporter echoed through her mind. She'd thought many times since the night before that she should go to the police, but something was stopping her. She kept telling herself that it was because of Lavender and Parvati – she didn't want them to get in trouble. Parvati's parents already thought that Hermione and Lavender were a negative influence on their daughter, but if they ever found out about last night…

Yeah,  _no_. They'd forbid Parvati from having any friendship with them ever again.

Hermione also reminded herself that she was protecting  _her_  best interests, as well. She was going to school to become a substance abuse counselor and what kind of reputation would she have if she was immediately known for being the key witness to the murder of the son of one of most respected lawyers in the city? And that said son was essentially hosting a white party in one of his father's homes?

Hermione wasn't a stupid girl – her career would probably be done for before it ever started. She kept thinking about how people  _died_  last night and she had  _information_  that could possibly lead to an arrest, but her own logic whispered coldly into her ear – whispered things like:  _They probably weren't good people, anyway_  and  _Truth doesn't help the dead_ and  _Don't sacrifice your dreams for people who never knew your name, Hermione._

She hated that her selfish logic made the most sense.

The memory of her friend's reactions when they opened the door to find Hermione safe and sound, waiting for them on Lavender's front porch was still burned fresh in her mind. There was a lot of crying and hugging involved before Lavender ruined the sisterly moment by lurching over the porch rail to vomit in her mother's decorative shrubs. Hermione had pulled Lavender's long hair away from her face and Parvati rubbed her back until she was done. They all laughed after she told them she was never falling for a guy dressed in Armani  _or_  drinking alcohol ever again.

This memory warmed her heart and Hermione thought that, maybe, her selfish logic wasn't so selfish after all.

Hermione decided then that she would just…do her best to put the past behind her and focus on the future. Nothing she did would change what happened, so it was pointless dwelling on it.

Wasn't it…?

* * *

A few months had gone by and Hermione's anxiety hadn't lessened by much. It didn't matter where she was or who she was with, one of the first things she did was make sure she knew where all the exits were. She'd often find her mind throwing her in dangerous situations that would probably never happen, instead of focusing on lectures.

Speaking of lectures, school was everything she had hoped it would be and more. Classes were engaging, assignments were interesting, and the atmosphere was laidback. The only miniscule problem was that, due to her stand-offish nature, she hadn't really formed any strong friendships yet. Sure, she'd been approached by a few guys here and there who had only been interested in sex, but she declined – she didn't have any time for that nonsense.

_Oh, well. At least I have Parvati and Lavender. That's all I need._

Hermione had just got out of class and was walking across campus when she felt her cell phone vibrate. She pulled it out of her back pocket and saw it was her mom's best friend from work, who was also one of their neighbors. Hermione frowned slightly. Her mom was terrible about answering her phone, so her friend would sometimes call Hermione's to get a hold of her. She shrugged her shoulders and answered the phone.

"Hey, Theresa. What's up? Is my mom not answering her phone again?" Hermione joked.

There was an awkward silence before Theresa spoke. "Honey," her voice cracked with emotion. "Hermione, honey. There's been an accident. Your momma, she -"

Hermione stopped walking and nearly fell over. She felt the warmth leave her limbs. "What happened?"

Theresa started crying on the other end. Hermione pulled herself together and started speed-walking to the bus stop. She repeated her question, practically yelling into the phone, " _Theresa!_   _What happened?"_

"We-we was walkin' down the stairs to get our clothes from the laundromat and Jean – your momma – she just…she just  _passed out_ , Hermione. We was just walkin' and – oh, my God – she just dropped and  _fell_ down the stairs," the woman sobbed.

"Is she okay!? Where is she!?" Hermione cried out.

"Oh, Hermione. It's bad, it's – we're at work – at the hospital. The doctors rushed her into surgery and -"

"Text me which part of the hospital you're at. I'm on my way," Hermione interrupted. She ended the call and started running toward the hospital as fast as she could. She almost considered stopping to call an Uber, but she knew she'd get there faster on foot. All she could think of was that her momma was hurt, her momma was hurt, her momma fell, her momma was dead –

_No._

_None of that, baby._

A long-forgotten memory floated toward the surface: A seven-year-old Hermione looked up at the sound of her mom's voice. She brought her face back down to look at her bloody knees in humiliation and angrily wiped the tears from her eyes. "I fell down again."

Jean squatted down on the tar in front of her daughter and smiled. "And what are you gonna do about it?"

Hermione kicked her new bike she got for her birthday bitterly. "Go back inside and  _read_."

"No. You're gonna dust yourself off and try again."

"But what if I fall down again?" Hermione whined.

Her momma grinned. "Then you pick yourself back up. You're gonna keep doing that until you know how to ride your bike. Do you know what's gonna happen if you give up without tryin'?"

Hermione pouted and shook her head.

"Nothin', that's what. If you go through life without gettin' bloody knees, you'll achieve absolutely nothing. Right?" she asked.

She sniffed, then stood back up. She nodded resolutely to her smiling mother. "Right."

Hermione shook herself out of the memory, and realized she'd made it to the hospital on autopilot. After checking her phone to see where Theresa was, Hermione ran down hallways and impatiently fidgeted in elevators until she got to the waiting room Theresa was in. Her mother's friend was a wreck.

"Hermione," she breathed into Hermione's sweaty curls in despair as they hugged each other. "You just missed the nurse. He said they're done stitching her up and they're getting her set up in her room now. He said she's stable, but she's still asleep. Someone should be comin' to get us soon."

She didn't know what to think about this situation, so she focused on the positives; it was all she could do.

Hermione stilled her quivering bottom lip and swallowed the lump in her throat. "Okay," she sighed, then smiled. "Okay, good. That's good. Just stitches. Stitches are fine. No big deal."

Theresa nodded quickly in agreement.

While they were waiting, Hermione sent texts to Lavender and Parvati about what happened. Lavender text back, saying that she was on her way. Parvati text back, saying the same, but Hermione told her to stay – she didn't want her friend driving five hours one way when her mother was going to be fine. They sat quietly in the waiting area for about a half hour before someone came out to get them.

They followed the nurse into the room and Hermione felt that lump form in her throat again at the sight of her mother lying on the bed with a bunch of wires and tubes connected to her. Her beautiful face was swollen and bruised in places and she could see all the stitches they'd sewn in.

Hermione turned to the nurse. "I thought she was just asleep. What are all these tubes for?"

"Well, this big one right here is the oxygen -" he started, but she interrupted him.

"Oxygen? Why does she need oxygen if she only fell down the stairs?" she asked incredulously.

The nurse looked a little uncomfortable. "How about I go get the doctor for you? She can explain everything."

She had to reel in her anger and remind herself that she wasn't angry with  _him_ , just the situation. She wasn't being fair, so she took a deep breath and replied, "Yes, I'd appreciate that."

He smiled. "Right. I'll be right back."

Hermione turned to the form of her sleeping mother on the bed and wanted to reach out and touch her, but was too afraid. The wires and tubes and medical equipment's rhythmic beating was intimidating, so she just lingered nearby.

"She'll wake up in no time, honey. Don't you worry," Theresa told her and it made her jump; she'd forgotten that she was in the room with her.

Hermione nodded, but remained silent. She knew the less she spoke, the higher chance she had of holding it together. Hermione wasn't sure how long they waited before there was a knock on the door and a short, middle-aged woman wearing the typical white lab coat doctors wore entered the room.

"Hey, there. Good afternoon. I'm Dr. Henning. You're Jean's daughter, right?" she asked, offering her hand to shake.

Hermione nodded, and returned the handshake. "Yes, I am. I'm Hermione."

The woman gave a somber smile, and released her hand. "Hi, Hermione. I'm going to start by telling you everything going on with your mom and to answer any questions you may have afterward," the woman started delicately, tactfully, and it made Hermione's heart speed up. "We discovered that your mother actually had a stroke while she was walking down the stairs and that's why she fell -"

Theresa gasped and Hermione's hand flew to her mouth. Tears formed in her eyes, but she did her best to blink them away. "A  _stroke_?"

Dr. Henning nodded solemnly. "Yes. The good news, is that it was a Thrombotic stroke **,**  which means that she had some plaque build-up in one of her arteries that created a blood clot and it was preventing blood from flowing to her brain normally."

"How is that good news?" Hermione asked impatiently.

"It's good news, because it's an easy fix. The clot wasn't in a dangerous place. All we have to do is give her some clot-busting medicine and she'll be good as new, but…" Dr. Henning stalled, trying to find the right words. "But your mother fell down a set of concrete stairs. She hit her head several times, which resulted in mild bleeding on her brain. She's in a coma."

Hermione felt her knees buckle and her eyes fluttered shut. She couldn't tolerate the reality of this situation. A stroke  _and_ a coma?

"When will she wake up?" she heard Theresa ask.

"We're unsure. It could be days; it could be weeks; it could be months. I know things look bad right now, but her prognosis for recovery looks good. After we treat the clot and the bleeding, all we have to do is wait for her to wake up."

Hermione nodded in understanding for what felt like the hundredth time that day and absorbed everything. Ultimately, her momma would be fine. She didn't know when or how long it would take, but she knew she'd be okay. Those were the positives.

The negatives? How would rent be paid? How would bills be paid? What about the medical bills? Hermione didn't get paid enough at her part-time job and she never had very much left over from her grants. What were they going to do?

It was then that Hermione realized that it wouldn't be up to  _them_  anymore – everything would squarely fall on her shoulders. They had friends that would be willing to help, but all of them were in the same financial situation as they were.

_Am I gonna have to drop out?_ she thought.

Hermione immediately threw that question out. There was no way. If she dropped out, she'd lose her grants and never get a chance at going to school ever again. She couldn't give that up. It was out of the question. No. She'd just have to find a second job and sacrifice what little free time she had. Pull all-nighters. That's what college students did all the time anyway, right?

_Maybe they're hiring for a part-time job on campus…_

"Ms. Granger?"

Hermione blinked in surprise and looked at the doctor. "I'm sorry. I was thinking. What did you say?"

"That's okay. I was just asking if you had any questions for me before I left?" Dr. Henning inquired.

She shook her head slowly. "No, I don't think so."

Dr. Henning smiled. "Alright. Well, if you think of anything, please feel free to ask one of her nurses if I'm not around. Don't be afraid to call for them if you need  _anything_  at all – even for yourself."

"Thank you," Hermione replied, and felt her chest swell with a warm emotion. She felt guilty for being snappish with the doctor earlier. She was a good woman.

"You ladies do your best to relax, alright? We're taking care of Mrs. Granger, but please don't forget to take care of yourselves."

"We will. Thank you so much," Hermione replied unsteadily, then brought her attention back to her momma.

Theresa stayed with Hermione for as long as she could, but she had elementary age children of her own that needed her at home.

Once she left, Hermione sank into the upholstered seat next to her mother and finally broke down.

How was she going to do this?

* * *

After Hermione relayed everything that was going on with her mother, the first question out of Lavender's mouth was: "Oh, my God, Hermione. What are you gonna do?"

Hermione shrugged hopelessly. "I have no idea."

Lavender stood awkwardly in the room for a few minutes. She chewed her bottom lip and looked to be thinking intently about something. Her eyes lit up. "Wait! I have an idea!"

"I'm not stripping, Lav," she replied dryly, without missing a beat.

Lavender plopped in the seat across from hers and leaned forward with enthusiasm. "No, with the idea of have, you'll be keeping your clothes  _on_."

"Oh. Well, in that case, you've grabbed my attention already," she replied sarcastically.

"Listen, I'm being serious, Hermione. I know a guy who is looking for someone to help him out for a few months with his business. It's a part-time gig. Make your own hours kind of deal. And it pays good, too."

Hermione sighed. "It's not hosting Essential Oils or LuLaRoe parties, is it? You know how I feel about pyramid schemes."

" _Ew_ , no," Lavender stated, entirely disgusted by the idea. She leaned forward a little more and whispered, "It's just selling some drugs to college kids."

Hermione's eyes widened. She felt insulted at the very thought of her selling -  _no_. No!

"Are you fucking crazy?!" Hermione hissed back. "I'm not selling drugs!"

"Come on, these barely count as drugs. It's just stuff like Ritalin and weed. Most college kids use that shit to help get them through school – all that stress. To be honest, I don't know how you're not taking anything to get through it. I mean, I wouldn't even consider weed  _illegal_. Well, it's not illegal in Colorado, anyway…" She trailed off.

"It's out of the damn question. I can't even believe you'd even ask me that! You know how I feel about it."

"I know, I know. But you could easily make a few hundred a week - maybe even a thousand, if you push 'em hard enough. It's good money, Hermione. Do you have any other ideas?" Lavender asked defensively.

"A thousand?" she asked incredulously, then shook her head.  _No._  Hermione scowled at her friend. "Not right now, but I have some time to come up with other ideas. I'm  _not_  selling drugs. I'm not  _that_  desperate. What kind of substance abuse counselor would I be?"

Lavender's nostrils flared. "You'd be one of the best ones in the state, because you'd be experiencing how addiction works firsthand."

Hermione stared at Lavender. That...actually made a lot of sense. If she sold the less harmful stuff, she could use this as a learning experience and - God damn it. No.

Why did Lavender's flawed logic make so much sense? She was so good at twisting a situation around.

Hermione pushed herself into her chair and sulked. "Forget it, Lavender. I'm not doing it."

Lavender dramatically rolled her eyes, groaned, and slumped back into her own chair. "You're so stubborn."

"No. I just have morals."

* * *

The majority of Hermione's days for the next two weeks consisted of work, school, and visiting with her mother at the hospital. They'd moved her room to something more long-term. The room was so nice. There was even a couch that turned into a fold-out bed that she often fell asleep on.

It was November and finals were quickly approaching. She would just spend her free time here, with her momma, and study. The Wi-Fi sucked, but it was quiet, aside from the nurses coming in to check on her mom and the beeping machinery and that one patient across the hall who would always yell about it being too damn cold and –

She knew she was avoiding the thoughts that had been keeping her up at night. She was avoiding the fact that her mother's insurance wasn't going to cover all the medical bills. She was avoiding the fact that their rent was due in two weeks. She was avoiding the fact that she hadn't found a second job yet.

Hermione stared at her momma. Her bruises were faded and her cuts were healing. Her clot was gone now, but they were having trouble with the bleeding on her brain. She wasn't getting worse, but she wasn't getting better, either.

Her heart felt empty. She just had to do  _something_.

After deciding she'd done enough avoiding, she picked up the phone, dialed a number, and waited for the person to answer. Once they picked up, Hermione said, "Hey, Lavender? Introduce me to your friend."

* * *

How Lavender had managed to plant that little seed in her mind to get her to agree to doing this, Hermione would probably never know. She was shifting her weight on her feet anxiously, and rubbing her sweaty palms against the tops of her jeans. Hermione's eyes wandered around the room to take in all the vintage band posters, half-built electronics, and overall nerdiness of his small apartment. Her face scrunched up in disgust when she noticed a tarantula the size of a small Chihuahua in a glass tank over in the corner.

"Afraid of tarantulas?" asked an amused voice.

Hermione brought her attention back to the man in front of her. Lavender's friend's name was Lee Jordan. He was a couple years older than them, but he still had a baby face that he tried to hide behind a poorly-grown mustache. Lee styled his hair with short dreads that he pulled back at the top of his head and he was wearing a black, leather jacket over his t-shirt and jeans to make himself seem more tough.

Obviously, she could be wrong in her assumption of him, but he didn't seem like the type of guy to be pushing drugs.

"I'm not afraid of them. I'm just not a big fan," she answered honestly.

Lee laughed. "Don't worry. I won't be takin' her out while you're here."

"Thanks for that," Lavender added.

Hermione felt herself getting annoyed quickly. "I'm not trying to be rude, but could we please get this over with?"

"Aight, aight. I get it. A woman who means business. I can respect that," Lee said, then walked into an adjacent room and they heard him rummaging through something.

"I think I'm gonna start you out small, so you can get a feel for it, ya know?" he called from the other room. Something heavy fell and he swore.

He came back out a minute later and placed a small package wrapped in a brown paper bag on the table in front of Hermione. She stared at the package, blinked, then looked back up at him, waiting for him to say something. She had no idea what the Hell she was doing. Why was she here?

Lee pointed at the package with his chin. "I'm gonna start you out with a few teeners, then you can come back with the cash once you sell 'em all -"

Lavender held up her hand. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up. Wait a sec.  _Cocaine_?"

"Well, yeah -" he started, but was interrupted again.

"I  _never_  agreed to selling  _cocaine_ , Lavender!" Hermione snapped. "You said I'd be selling…selling…ADHD meds and weed!"

Lavender tried her best to soothe Hermione, and gave Lee an expectant look. "When did you start selling  _coke_ , Lee? That's… _new_."

Lee raised an eyebrow and scratched the side of his head. "A few months ago. I got an in with the Death Eaters. I'm not an actual member of their gang, but more of an…associate -"

Hermione snatched her hands out of Lavender's and said, "The Death Eaters? No. Fuck this shit. I'm out. I…am…out."

"Hermione -" Lavender started, but Hermione was already halfway to the door. She looked at Lee and said, "Excuse us for a minute."

Lavender caught up to her and pulled her over to the side. Hermione struggled against her grip and angrily whispered, "You told me it was the less dangerous stuff! It took me forever to talk myself into coming here, and now this? I can't do this, Lav."

"Hermione, just calm down and listen to me, alright? This wouldn't be a long-term thing. Just do this until you make enough money to give yourself a cushion until you find another job. That's it. You can tell Lee you're done anytime and quit. No strings attached," Lavender tried to convince her.

"It's not even about the money, Lav." Tears started to form in Hermione's eyes and she tried to discreetly rub them away. "My daddy. You know what happened to him. I just can't do this. I can't."

Lavender's face softened. "I know, I know. But your situation right now is shit, Hermione. You guys are gonna lose your place if you don't figure somethin' out. Not to mention your other bills."

Hermione remained quiet as she mulled over her friend's words.

Lavender continued, "And, like I said before, you could use this as a learning experience."

Her friend's voice faded into the slow, steady beating of her momma's medical equipment.

"It won't be much of a learning experience if I'm in jail," she added bitterly and Lavender gave her a scornful look. Hermione closed her eyes and sighed in defeat. "Fine. But only until I build a cushion, then I'm out."

She swore, it looked like Lavender's eyes were watery, but maybe it was her excessive use of eye-liner. Lavender grinned. "Then you're out."

They walked back to the table to see Lee looking hesitant, but Lavender quickly convinced him that Hermione could do it. He mentioned how he couldn't really picture a little thing like her selling drugs, but Hermione snapped back that she couldn't imagine a tech junkie with a love for 70's bands and tarantulas could be selling them, either. It made him laugh and he said that,  _aight, aight_ , he got it.

The moment he slid the package across the table and her fingers circled it, was the first moment in her entire life where she felt like she truly hated herself.


End file.
